


If You Can’t Be With the One You Love

by literarrow



Category: Arrow - Fandom, Arrowverse - Fandom, The Flash, flarrow - Fandom, olivarry - Fandom
Genre: Arrow - Freeform, M/M, Olivarry, The Flash - Freeform, flarrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarrow/pseuds/literarrow
Summary: "It is a travesty when two hearts, at different intervals in life, find each other. And although they would be otherwise perfect for each other, they can't be together. For the timing isn't right."Olivarry partial AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Barry's alarm sounded, waking him from his rest. He turned on his shoulder to silence the obnoxious ringing. He rolled on his back and blankly glared at the ceiling above him as he mentally prepared for the day ahead. 

He felt a subtle movement coming from the other side of the bed, causing his attention to shift to the woman laying beside him. Her dark locks flipped over her shoulder as she turned her head to face him. She spoke with a grin. 

"Good morning." 

Barry felt a timid smile form as he pecked her lips gently. "Morning, Iris." 

She moved herself closer to Barry, nestling her body against his. "Three more days." 

"Until what?" Barry asks smugly. 

"Shut up," Iris says while playfully hitting his chest, keeping her hand there after. "I know you've been counting down the days as well."

"Been counting down since I was eleven." Barry finishes, rubbing her shoulder gently before kissing the top of her head. The two sit in comfortable silence as the allow their bodies to wake up for the day. 

Every morning felt the same to Barry. Touch of the snooze button, a kiss on the lips, the occasional bacon and eggs, and a speed off to the precinct. It slowly began to seem like a tedious routine. He sensed that little to nothing would change when he and Iris officially tie the knot. 

Apart of Barry worried he was getting cold feet as the big day neared. The majority of his young life, he dreamed about the day he would marry Iris West. It was always her. He believed that he was finally getting the girl. Yet this fear consumed him. It haunted his thoughts daily. 

He loved Iris. Every time he looked at her, he felt the same flutters he felt in elementary school. His affections towards her never changed. But more recently, fear and regret sometimes tagged along with the love. He could not pinpoint the origins of these feelings but they were there, screaming at him. He was never unfaithful. He was never untruthful. Everything that ever meant something to Barry, Iris knew. 

She was his best friend. How could he have this sense of doubt? 

"Have you talked to Oliver yet?" Iris asked Barry as he fastened the buttons on his shirt. He immediately stopped and looked at her with confusion. 

"About what?" He asks, not taking his eyes off of hers.

She pulls up an invitation with a yes marking on the bottom. "I got this from Felicity. I haven't gotten anything from Oliver." 

Barry shrugged his shoulders as he went back to buttoning his top. "He's my other groomsman. He probably doesn't think he has to RSVP."

"You men." Iris states with sarcastic disdain. "Is it that hard to confirm an appearance?"

"It's Ollie we're talking about," Barry begins with a smirk. "He wouldn't miss it." 

"Well," Iris says while handing Barry a mug of coffee and his briefcase. "Can you at least call him? Clarify he's still coming?"

Barry plants a soft kiss on her lips. "Of course." 

He begins to walk towards the door before Iris yells at him, "and remind him that your tuxedo fittings are the day before!"

"Got it." Barry says with a slight annoyance as he starts his run to the office. 

The daily trek felt the same. It was his favorite part of the morning. A feeling of solidarity as he ran on a self-carved trail. A feeling of peace as the wind caught his quick feet and whipped upon his face. The feeling that time was on his side and not the other way around. It was calming. It was a nice escape from his everyday endeavors.

He almost felt a sense of dread on today's run. He knew when he reached the precinct he would have to make a call. There was something unnerving, eating Barry away at the thought of the conversation he was about to partake in. 

The run went by faster than Barry had hoped and he found himself in an elevator, heading up to his quarters. He was immediately met by a familiar face as he walked up the stairs towards his crime lab.

"Allen," he says, stopping Barry in his tracks. "Did you finish your report on yesterday's meta case?"

"Not yet," Barry replied, picking his pace up as he continued to rush up the stairs. "But I promise that I'll have it to you in an hour, Captain Singh."

Barry jogged to his lab, setting his belongings down in his desk chair. He walked towards the large window that overlooked Central City. It was one of his favorite views of the city he grew up in. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts. He felt his heart rate begin to rise as he neared the "O" names in his list. 

Oliver Queen.

Barry felt his thumb slightly tremble as he tapped on the contact. He took a shaky breath of anticipation as the phone rang. Once, twice, three times. 

"Goddamnit, Ollie." Barry mumbled to himself. "This is the third day in a row." 

Barry had been attempting to get in touch with Oliver since the beginning of the week. He had yet to pick up the phone. Barry tried to send him a text message. He left it on read. 

After the fifth ring, Barry heard a familiar tone come through his ears. "It's Ollie. Leave a message." 

Barry bit his lip in frustration. He clenched his fist, trying to make sure his anger did not transfer into his voice. 

"Ollie, it's Barry. Again." Barry said solemnly. "Just wanted to check in. Make sure you were still coming Saturday. We have a fitting on Friday. Please give me a call."

Barry felt his tone hint at desperation towards the end of the message. His annoyance at Oliver was prominent yet his fear and worry also made an appearance. Oliver was one of his closest friends. He had been someone that Barry could confide in.

Very little understand certain aspects of Barry's life— both of his parents are dead. He works as a crime scene investigator while also protecting the city under a mask. He has secrets that follow him everywhere he goes. No one understands and empathizes with Barry in the manner that Oliver does.

Oliver was one of his two groomsmen. Him being there meant everything to Barry. The thought of him not being there pained him to no end. 

It felt as if Oliver had little to no interest in coming. And that's what hurts worst of all.


	2. Oliver

That damn sound. Oliver thought to himself. The buzzing was ringing through his bedroom. It echoed in his head, causing it to pound. 

"Fuck off!" He screamed, slamming the snooze button on the alarm. He placed his palms over his eyes, blocking the blinding light from the sun. He slowly drew his hands down his face before glancing over at the clock. He cursed aloud, realizing he overslept. 

He quickly threw his legs off the side of the bed, nearly standing up simultaneously. As he stood up, he felt last night's drinks slowly make a reappearance. He rushes to his bathroom, allowing the excess to exit his body into the sink. 

He rested his hands on the counter, leaning near the mirror, getting a good look at himself. His face suffered from discoloration while his eyes looked as if he hadn't slept in days. 

He stared at his reflection and hated it. He couldn't look at the man he had become. He deserved nothing. He deserved no one. 

Oliver washed the vomit from the sink before splashing cold water on his face. He dried it off with a towel, looking the other direction as quickly as he could. He couldn't stand the sight of himself. 

He slowly readied himself for the day. He watched as he put on clothes that gave him the appearance that he had it all together. Ironed slacks, a suit jacket, and a fastened tie hid his misery from the people of Star City. 

He did away with the alcohol smell as much as he could— swigging Listerine multiple times, misting cologne. Again, allowing him to put up the facade that he was alright. 

"You look like hell." 

Oliver was greeted at his door by the same face he was greeted by every day. The salutation, especially as of more recently, remained nearly the same as well. 

"Thanks for the reminder, John." Oliver replied, emotionless.

"Always a pleasure, sir." John Diggle snarked, holding the car door open for Oliver to enter. "Missed you out in the field last night." 

Oliver scoffed. "I wasn't up for another ass kicking." 

"If you weren't drowning yourself in tequila all night, you would have known we were just gathering intel." John began to pull from the driveway. 

"At least you're still semi-committing to your day job." 

"My day job requires me to talk to investors, go to board meetings, and occasionally make a public appearance," Oliver began solemnly. "It doesn't require questioning some random thug where he got his vertigo from with an arrow aimed at his heart." 

John shook his head in disagreement. "Oliver, that thug kicked your ass because you were hungover from your afternoon drinks."

"Well John, it's either give up the bottles or give up the hood," Oliver replies as he opens the door. "And frankly, the hood just makes me more angry." 

Oliver slams the door behind him, ignoring Diggle's offhanded comments through the window. Normally, John would walk him into the building. But this morning, he needed his personal space.   
As he walked into to his office, he noticed a familiar woman awaiting his arrival.

"Ollie?" a bright smile greeted him inquisitively. "Are you alright?" 

Oliver let out a subtle smile before responding. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she replied worriedly. 

"It was a rough night, Laurel." He told her coldly. "Let's just leave it at that." 

"You know you can always come to me," she told him softly. "I'm here for you."

He acknowledged her words with a warm smile, pulling a chair out for her and gesturing her to sit. He sat in a chair beside her, with his attention going to the files that laid in her lap. "What are those?"

"These are what I'm here to talk with you about," Laurel began. "You know I work at the DA's office. But a friend of mine who works in corporate sent these to me."

Oliver glances into the folders, trying to understand what information rests on them. 

Laurel sighs. "Someone is filing a lawsuit against Queen Enterprises— an old investor. He said his product was faulty and caused damage in their building.

It's bad, Oliver."

Oliver feels his shoulders sulk down into the seat. "How much?"

"500 grand for damages," Laurel begins. "There were multiple injuries as well."

"Goddamnit." Oliver moans. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, his heart dropping more as he reads the caller ID. He forces the phone onto his desk before sinking his head into his palms in distress

Laurel hurriedly shuts and locks the door, giving the two of them privacy. She squats down in front of Oliver, resting her hand on his knee. "What the hell is wrong with you, Oliver?"

He pulls his head from his hands and looks at Laurel. Worry fills her expressions as she intently looks into his broken eyes. "I just need a drink."

"No you don't." Laurel protests. "Trust me. It doesn't help."

"It numbs the pain." 

Laurel's expressions become soft as well as her tone. "What pain?"

"The pain of the impossible." 

"You need to be more specific," Laurel says before being interrupted by a ring of her phone. "It's the office. I've got to head back. Are you going to be okay?" 

Oliver nods with a small smile. Laurel takes a hold of his hand and gives it a squeeze before walking away. He watches her leave through the glass windows. She was  a light that shined for everyone around her. Even Oliver, as reclusive and damaged he had become, saw her in this way, as she illuminated a portion of the dark hole he found himself trapped in.

He picked up his phone from the desk, glancing at the notification sitting on his screen. Voicemail from Barry Allen. Oliver sighed as he sat down in his chair, setting the phone down on the desk as he pressed play.

"Ollie, it's Barry. Again." 

His voice radiated through the phone, causing Oliver to feel as if he stopped breathing. 

"Just wanted to check in. Make sure you were still coming Saturday."

Saturday. Every muscle in Oliver's body tensed up at the thought of Saturday. His chest began to throb, causing Oliver to place his hand over his heart. His head began to pound again as he rested it into his palm. 

"We have a fitting on Friday. Please give me a call."

Oliver threw his phone into a drawer under the desktop. He then pulled out a bottle of vodka that stood in a drawer beneath it. He poured a fourth of the liquid in the bottle into a glass he kept in his office, placing the cup in their air as if he was giving a toast. 

"To Mr. and Mrs. West. Allen."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first full work on an Oliver/Barry story and I am extremely excited. This is also posted on Wattpad. 
> 
> If you’re enjoying the story, give me a follow on Twitter at @olliebxrry for updates while I’m writing and when I’ll be posting each chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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